


Chance Encounter

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge Response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-02
Updated: 2004-06-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 15:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: A message from the PTB sends Willow to St. Louis ... and Asher.





	Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

All that came across the path of Asher as he stormed through the halls beneath The Circus of the Damned knew he was in a foul mood. If truth be told, they had probably already been warned by one or another of the pack or the pard who had been unfortunate enough to be present for his latest assignment from Jean-Claude, the Master. 

 

Angelus was sending his witch to St. Louis and Jean-Claude could do little, if anything, about it. Apparently, the Master of Los Angeles' seer had received a vision from the Powers That Be regarding their city, and he felt the witch could more than handle it. Asher was inclined to agree. It wasn't her lack of power that concerned him. On the contrary, the witch had enough power in her little finger to level the Circus if the whim took her. She had very nearly ended the world. 

 

It was the fact that Jean-Claude had sent him of all people to escort Ms. Rosenberg during her stay that rankled. He, a master vampire in his own right, was being given guard duty. Oh, Jean-Claude claimed that he could entrust no one else with her care, that Angelus had a nasty reputation for getting even. If anything were to happen to his pet witch, he would no doubt wreak havoc on St. Louis. Asher knew all this for himself. Still, any one of the pack, or even some of the pard, could have provided her adequate protection. Which brought him back to the reason behind this latest task. 

 

Years ago, Jean-Claude had saved Asher from the priests who had tried to 'cleanse' him of evil by pouring holy water on him. But not before they had hideously scarred the right half of his body. And not before they had killed Julianna, his human servant and lover, burning her at the stake for witchcraft. He had blamed Jean-Claude for years, only recently finding it in his heart to forgive him. He even lived here in St. Louis with him now, but they had never been able to rekindle the spark in their relationship after Julianna's death. 

 

Jean-Claude, ever the politician, had casually suggested that he try to win over Angelus' witch, in order to form a solid alliance with the Master of L.A. Asher was furious. Did he not see the scarred monstrosity that his golden lover had become? How could he expect to win anyone over, let alone a young, powerful witch? He had always known that Jean-Claude valued power over all else, but he had never expected him to show such cruelty. Slamming the door angrily, he headed to the front room to meet the woman he was to escort. 

 

~*~*~*~* 

 

Willow stepped into the airport, quickly assessing her surroundings with a glance. Angel had warned her that the vampires were much different here, having descended from a completely different line. It was sort of a catch-22. She would have little difficulty holding her own, given her power; however, it was the same power that would draw them to her. 

 

She found her ride to the Circus with little effort. He was a lycanthrope, a wolf if she wasn't mistaken, named Jason. He seemed enamored of the power she radiated, even with her shields up, and she patiently allowed him to sniff her, not offended in the slightest. Once the preliminaries were out of the way, he and an assortment of other lycanthropes escorted her to a waiting limo. 

 

The trip to the master's lair was short and passed in relative silence. The wolves seemed to be somewhat taken aback by her, and she had no love of conversation these days. It had been a year since her nearly world-ending disaster, and she still hadn't been able to rejoin the living, so to speak. She did her work for Angel Investigations faithfully, but never allowed herself to become emotionally involved. She knew Angel worried about her, but she had refused his attempts to draw her from her shell. 

 

She looked up as they reached the Circus. She just wanted to get this over with. She couldn't imagine why, of all places, the Powers had sent her to St. Louis. Cordelia had told her very little, save for a description of the demon she was to fight, though it seemed she was hiding something. Whatever it was, Willow just wanted to be done with it. 

 

~*~*~*~* 

 

Asher must have still been wearing the frown on his face as he entered the room, for he saw Jason shiver when he looked up. He watched them come in, an unfamiliar red-haired pixie with them. There was something about her, some raw power that he had never felt, that danced along his skin. It drew him, as did her pain. Her pain was almost palpable. He found himself wondering what could have caused it, and was torn between propriety and the nearly overwhelming need to comfort her. 

 

"Where is Angelus' witch?" he growled testily, angry with himself for his lack of control. The wolves shifted uncomfortably at his tone, and he tasted the sharpness of the redhead's fear for just a moment before she suppressed it. He admired her spirit. 

 

"I belong to no one," the redhead finally said. 

 

Asher was astounded, and lost his voice for several moments. This creature, this tiny little pixie, was a witch powerful enough to end the world? His doubt must have shown on his face, for there was a spark in her eyes when she spoke again. 

 

"You doubt me?" she asked, and there was just a hint of anger underlying her voice. 

 

"Non, of course not," he said quickly. "Please forgive me, mademoiselle. You are simply not what you appear to be." 

 

She gave him a measuring glance. "Neither, I think, are you. You are not the Master of the City?" 

 

Asher shook his head. "Non." 

 

Willow's eyes narrowed. "Yet you are a master vampire. How can I trust you if you are not truthful with me?" 

 

He was a little shocked, both by her assessment of his strength, and by her question. "Why do you think I am not being honest, chérie?" 

 

She raised her eyes to meet his, and he was somehow unsurprised that she was not immediately enthralled. Again, he saw the pain reflected in her gaze, and recalled his first impression of her. She gestured to where he stood. "You conceal yourself, in the shadows, and behind your hair. What is it that you would hide from me?" 

 

Asher drew in a sharp breath. "Leave us," he hissed at the wolves, and he felt the tension flow through them. Jason started to protest, but he quickly silenced the wolf. "Now!" he commanded, and all of them bolted from the room, leaving the two of them alone. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 

Willow shivered as the door clicked shut behind the last of her bodyguards. She hadn't meant to anger the blonde vampire, but something about the way he hid himself made her push him. Now, though, she was beginning to rethink her tactics. Perhaps she had pushed him too far. 

 

Asher swore to himself when he saw the tremor of fear run through the witch. He was supposed to protect her, not frighten her. He had just been caught completely off guard by her question. What was she doing to him, that he had so little control over his emotions? Had she bewitched him already? Dreading the distaste his appearance was sure to evoke, he stepped into the light, and drew his hair aside, revealing the scars he worked so hard to hide. 

 

Willow gasped in horror at what the vampire revealed. When he had stepped into the light, she had thought him perfection itself. If Angel was the so-called 'angelic' one, then there were no words for Asher. Then he drew that metallic golden hair aside, and she wanted to weep. Not at his features, but at what had been done to him. 

 

Asher steeled himself for the witch's reaction, but looking in her eyes, he saw no revulsion, no loathing, no pity. All he saw was sorrow. Absolute and genuine sorrow. For a moment, he wondered what had caused it, then his eyes grew wide as he realized her pain was for him. His had self-consciously found his scars. 

 

"Dear goddess," she murmured in a voice choked by tears. "What did they do to you?" She knew he had taken her words the wrong way when he started to cover his face again, but she caught his hand. 

 

Asher gasped at the physical contact. Such an innocent gesture, yet the most erotic of caresses could not have affected him more at the moment. She had seen the ugliness he hid, and still she touched him. "Holy water," he said in answer to her question, and was stunned at the fire in her eyes. At that moment, she looked like an avenging angel, ready to rein vengeance down upon any who had touched him. "It was centuries ago, ma chère." 

 

Understanding replaced the silent rage in her emerald eyes. "You don't think you're beautiful," she said, raising her hand to stroke his scarred cheek. He flinched under her feather-light caress and closed his eyes, hardly able to believe this was real. "But you are," she whispered, brushing her lips across his. 

 

Asher's eyes flew open when he felt her kiss him. Surely she couldn't mean this. She couldn't find him beautiful. Even Narcissus had only wanted him because of his imperfection. But he didn't sense that Willow saw him as a curiosity, something to satisfy an odd fetish. Neither did he think she pitied him. 

 

Willow felt Asher tense and pulled back. She could see the disbelief in his eyes. "You are beautiful, Asher," she repeated firmly, then added softly, "Let me show you." His eyes widened a notch, and she smiled seductively. 

 

"You cannot mean-" 

 

"I do," she interrupted. "Please." 

 

With the speed of his true nature, he swept her up into his arms and headed for his rooms. In seconds they were there, thankfully having not encountered a single other person on the way. Willow's lips were driving him to distraction, and he told her so as he pinned her against the back of his door. She grinned as he lavished kisses on every exposed part of her body, but her smile faded as she realized something. 

 

"Asher, wait ..." she started, and he stiffened and pulled away. 

 

There was a pain in his eyes so intense she wanted to weep, then he schooled his features into a blank expression. "You have changed your mind, chérie?" he asked, his voice emotionless. 

 

"No!" she exclaimed, pulling him back to her. "No, of course not. I just wanted to tell you something ... this isn't something I do all the time," she confessed. "I don't expect anything from you other than tonight. I just wanted you to know ... this means something to me." 

 

Asher was speechless. He hadn't exactly judged her as being promiscuous, but neither had he expected her to have any sort of emotional attachment to him. This was dangerous, he knew, letting anyone this close. But he couldn't seem to help it. "You have bewitched me," he growled, kissing her hard until she was breathless. Then he slowly undressed her, kissing each new part he revealed. When she was completely nude, he carried her to his bed, then hesitantly undressed himself. He had another moment of doubt when he was fully exposed to her, but the lust in her eyes banished all uncertainty. 

 

"Beautiful," she whispered, kissing him as he had her, scars and unmarred skin alike. She ran her hands over every inch of his body, as if memorizing it. Their kisses were long and intense, full of pent-up passion and longing that they had both had for too long. When he lay on his back and pulled her on top of him, she guided herself onto his length. Willow gasped as he filled her, stretching her with his smooth hardness. 

 

"Asher," she groaned as his hands grasped her hips and began to guide her motions. She rocked against him, screaming his name as her orgasm took her. She had just come down from her climax as he came, triggering another peak in her. Weakly, she lay against him, and he whispered endearments in French as he gathered her close. 

 

It was moments later as they lay together, their bodies entwined, that he noticed Willow was crying. His heart sank. Surely she wasn't having regrets? "Ma petite?" he murmured. "What troubles you, chérie?" 

 

Willow sobbed, laying her face against his chest. "I just ... I don't want this to end," she whispered. 

 

"Then stay here," he suggested, surprising even himself. Somehow, the thought of her leaving pained him. "You have said that Angelus does not control you. Is this true? Are you free to go where you please?" 

 

Willow looked up at him, shocked. He would want her here? "No, I am my own person. Some people think I'm his human servant, but we're just friends. He's like an older brother. A really, really older brother. But ..." She frowned. "Would the Master not consider me a threat?" she asked. 

 

"Non. In fact, he asked me to try and form some sort of alliance with you, though I do not think he had this in mind," he said. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Jean-Claude had not somehow had a hand in this all along. "We will ask him later if you wish," he told her. 

 

Willow nodded. "Asher, I know we hardly know each other, but ... you make me feel alive," she whispered, feeling the need to explain her feelings for him. "A year ago, Tara, my lover died. She was my joy, my life ... she was my everything. When she died, I shut down. I stopped feeling." She looked up at him. "You make me feel again." 

 

"I ... I do not know what to say, chérie, except that I think we can understand each other." He explained, in detail, his relationship with Julianna and Jean-Claude, and her subsequent death. "I no longer believe in fate, but you ... this feels right. I cannot bear the thought of losing you," he murmured. "Stay with me," he said, almost pleadingly. 

 

"For as long as you'll have me," she returned, gazing up at him. 

 

"Forever," he whispered hoarsely. 

 

Willow smiled, joy suffusing her being. "Forever." 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 

I know it was mushy, but that's what I was in the mood to write. Please send feedback! Feeding my muses usually makes me write a sequel/series. Thanks!


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